


Circling Skies

by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)



Series: Fluff Bingo [22]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Burns, First Aid, Fluff, Fluff Bingo!, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, bc it's on brand, set during the first few months of the FE3H game, they are babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24961918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: Sylvain has been up to something the past several days in Garreg Mach's infirmary.  Felix isn't sure he wants to know what.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Fluff Bingo [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655521
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62
Collections: Writing Squad Fluff Bingo





	Circling Skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oliver__Niko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/gifts).



> THIS IS PURELY INNOCENT I SWEAR...just fluff for fluff's sake, man. Also because it's my good friend Ollie's birthday and Ollie, a long time ago, so sweetly requested "First Aid" from my Fluff Bingo card for Sylvix and WHO AM I TO REFUSE so I've been holding onto this thing until his birthday to use it as a birthday present. Now here it is.
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLLIE! I hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> Set pretty early on in FE3H! Like, the first few months of the game. When they are still babies.

It wasn’t the first time Mercedes had asked her persistent shadow, “Sylvain? Can I help you?” but it was, perhaps, the first time she finally realized what he was staring at each time she turned around. His amber eyes, usually so aloof and guarded, were carefully watching the work of her hands. 

She caught it only for a split second; when she turned around, there was laughter bubbling out of him and a dismissive, “Oh, y’know. Just tryin’ to get a good view.”

Mercedes smiled. She knew him better than he thought she did. “Do you have any questions?”

His eyebrows shot up behind his messy bangs. There was a flicker of his eyes again, a quick, furtive movement at the roll of gauze in her hands and the ointments sitting on the tray at her elbow. But it just as soon disappeared, replaced by his usual confident smile and lackadaisical pose, hands folded behind his head.

Sylvain shrugged. “Nah. Unless you wanna get dinner later?”

She giggled politely. “No, thank you.”

“Worth a try.”

It was a lie, but a kind one, and Mercedes could appreciate his effort when she knew perfectly well whose company it was that Sylvain truly loved to share a meal with each and every night.

* * *

Sylvain became somewhat of an odd cross between a fixture and a wallflower in Garreg Mach’s infirmary. At first, he tried to pass off his presence as, “Oh, I’m just here to appreciate our lovely, hard-working nurses,” but after a while even Professor Manuela eyed him with suspicion when he would inevitably, day after day, find some corner or stool or post to watch them from.

“You know, you _can_ learn magic,” Mercedes once tried to tell him while laying a cool rag over another student’s feverish forehead. “I would be happy to share some of my books with you and teach you what I know.”

“What? Nah.” Sylvain had scoffed and looked away. “I wouldn’t have any use for it.”

But Mercedes watched the way he, in turn, worriedly watched his childhood friend across the field in their mock battle under bright, circling skies and wondered.

* * *

“So, the first thing I’m going to do is stop the bleeding,” Mercedes hummed. “This can be done either through a healing spell, or if magic is not available, making sure to tightly cover the wound.”

“Uh…okay,” the kid with the bleeding arm muttered. Her eyes looked up at the hovering redhead over Mercedes’ shoulder. 

“Of course,” Mercedes continued breezily as if Sylvain fucking Gautier wasn’t _right there_ , watching her every move like he wanted to memorize the pattern of movement of her hands. “If possible, it’s definitely important that I clean the wound before I go about wrapping it with the intent of leaving it to heal. Under the pressure and chaos of the battlefield, however, cleaning the wound may not be possible or even wise…”

“Um. Cool?”

“So when I am in _that_ situation, my first priority is getting the wounded soldier out of danger and wait to clean the wound and bandage it until we have as sanitary an area as possible.”

“But…”

“That ‘bacteria’ you mentioned,” Sylvain murmured as if what she was saying actually made _sense_. 

The girl looked between them, wondering if she had missed some sort of joke or training or lecture that would explain what was going on. Her ponytail smacked against her cheek with every turn. “Aren’t we at school? Can’t you just heal me and get this over with?” Was the _please_ in her voice too obvious?

A loud _clap_ filled the infirmary as Mercedes brought her hands together, her sweet smile lifted above it. “Yes, of course! But most importantly of all…” 

“Y-yeah?”

“I shouldn’t forget how helpful water can be if I have no true medical supplies and ointments available,” Mercedes chirped and Sylvain, with his handsome angular face oddly serious, nodded.

“That’s…that’s great…” the kid sighed.

* * *

Felix wasn’t an idiot. 

He had known Sylvain far longer than he was comfortable with other people knowing, so he _knew_ when the young man was doing something behind his back. It was embarrassingly obvious. He wasn’t fully sure what it was, though; the instant he had narrowed down the location of Sylvain’s haunting grounds to the Garreg Mach infirmary, he lost all interest in pursuing the query further.

_Sylvain is trying to chase the skirts of our healers,_ he thought and wrote the matter off because it was so unbearably _Sylvain_ of him.

They were placed on cooking duty together because—well—Felix can’t quite remember the reason, exactly; the Professor mentioned something she had to run and take care of, but Felix couldn’t exactly make out the words under the woman’s breath. Formidable swordsman she may herself be, she didn’t always use her full volume when speaking outside of lectures and the battlefield.

So there Felix and Sylvain were, side-by-side in the kitchen, talking idly about the latest scuffle against bandits the Professor had led them against over the weekend. And Felix had just switched hands on the pan to reach for a pair of tongs as Sylvain said, “Of course I was watching you; what else was there to look at?”—which is exactly when, and probably why, everything went wrong.

“What the—” Sylvain yelped the same instant Felix did as the pan jerked forward, hot oil splashing out over his hand and up his wrist. The roasting chuck catapulted to the floor. The pan followed suit a second afterward, clanging loudly against the tile.

Sylvain leaped forward over it. “Felix! Shit! You okay?”

Immediately, Felix yanked back and pulled his hand tight to his chest. A sharp breath sucked in through his teeth. Blissfully cold. “Fine.”

“What the—of course you’re not!” There was a split-second of terrible uncertainty and for Felix, it seemed to go on for hours until Sylvain finally swore again and turned around for the sink, grumbling, “Ugh, damn it! Of course you get burned! I didn’t even think to ask how to take care of _burns!”_

“Wh—”

“Here.” 

And in the next second, Sylvain was there and his hands were warm through the cold rag that he pressed over Felix’s hand. Another cold, sharp breath shot through Felix’s teeth. 

“That _hurts._ ”

“Sorry,” Sylvain muttered, frown pinching his face. “Can’t exactly help with that.”

Felix huffed because it seemed the only thing he was capable of doing. Whatever anger he wanted to muster wasn’t building. He sighed instead. “Whatever. At least…you didn’t get any oil on yourself?”

“No.”

“I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s fine.” Sylvain chuckled and the sound, as always, drew Felix’s eyes to the handsome sweep of his smile. “Actually, if you think about it, it’s kind of ironic.”

“What is?”

“Oh, I’ve been…” Sylvain’s eyes slipped to the side. There was a moment where Felix thought he might actually be honest, but true to Sylvain’s nature he just chuckled and shook his head. “Never mind. Gotta admit: sorry to say, but I don’t think I’ll be much help here. Want me to grab Mercedes? She’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy.” 

Felix looked down at the fold of Sylvain’s hands over his. He should be able to feel the angry burn, right? So how come it feels so detached, as if someone else’s hand must have gotten singed by oil instead of his? Felix shrugged after a moment. “Do what you wish. It’s not my sword hand.” 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. On his way past Felix, he was sure to add, “As if that makes it any less important! Weirdo.”

Alone in the kitchens, the ends of Felix’s mouth finally soften into a smirk.

He looks at the rag wrapped around his hand and leans against the nearest table. “So that’s what you’ve been up to in the infirmary. How unlike you, Sylvain.”


End file.
